


How to Survive Quintessa and Make the Best of It

by sparklight



Category: Transformers (Dreamwave Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 10:46:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3064934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklight/pseuds/sparklight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stranded on Quintessa after Optimus' ill-advised stunt with the space bridge, energon is hard to come by, and Optimus' rifle uses energon.</p><p>Megatron objects, and sets about providing Optimus with a less wasteful weapon, and during the attempt to at least TRY to teach Optimus to use it, one thing leads to another...</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to Survive Quintessa and Make the Best of It

**The wilds of Quintessa. Almost one and a half million years since the Great War started.**

Metal flashing in the sunlight, the squat, round creatures threw themselves with a nearly single-minded zeal at their targets, their giant maws full of teeth bared and their mace-ended tails swinging. As metal buckled and was shorn apart in a shower of sparks and fluids from torn cables, however, it was clear that despite their numbers, the sharkticons weren't _winning_.

They weren't necessarily _losing_ , either, as proven by the dents covering the black metal of both of Megatron's lower legs, the torn knee joint of his left leg, with its neat, deep punctures corresponding perfectly with the assailants' teeth. _Despite that_ , Megatron rather used his injured leg to _cause more injury_ than letting it slow him down. He might be a bit slower moving on it, but he could still move it and thus, more than one of the ugly, toothsome creatures got one or more kicks that collapsed metal and most often sent them flying into their brethren as well.

It was going... acceptably. 

Especially given that they hadn't quite _chosen_ the battlefield, but it was, nonetheless, reasonably defensible, and they weren't leaving until they were done. They could ill afford anything else... 

Optics narrowing as yet another lance of high-charged light screamed past him to spear through a sharkticon's optic and turn its insides into slag, Megatron slammed his fist down on a sharkticon that had gotten past both his blade and his foot, then stabbed down, bisecting it.

" _Stop wasting it_ , for the love of Cybertron!" Megatron bellowed as he hacked through two careless sharkticons and kicked a third, using the fact that it'd bitten into his leg to use it as a club against a few others. It finally let go, and he chanced a glare behind him, into blue, bewildered optics that shortly narrowed into annoyance.

Sneering, he turned back around to face the horde - it _was_ thinning, but they'd need to finish quickly and move on...

Another two shots flew past, and Megatron barely swallowed his own mounting annoyance. Optimus was a good shot, no denying that, but that didn't help them _right now_.

" _Stop wasting the clips_ , Prime, or I will shove your blasted gravelspitter down your intake!" He risked turning completely around, covering his back with a sweep of his sword, _just_ so he could grace the idiot with a _proper_ glare. Was their stay out here making the Prime's audio receptors glitch or something?

"I don't believe I have missed a _single shot_ I've taken since we _ended up here_ , Megatron," Optimus retorted, trying to push down the confused frustration so he wouldn't miss the _next one either_. What was Megatron even going _on_ about? In addition, arguing about his choice of weapon _while they were fighting_ , seemed like an extremely bad idea.

Megatron revved his engine, loud enough the the cliffs around them rattled with the noise and the sharkticons staggered. Optimus was unmoved, and just about to take another shot.

"Put down the rifle and concentrate on getting the energon! We don't have enough for you to waste on energy for the clips _unless it's an emergency_ , and _this_ , Prime, _is not an emergency_!"

Arm dropping, not so much from what was basically a veritable _roar_ from Megatron as because of what he was _saying_ , Optimus ended up staring quietly at the huge cannon Megatron had mounted on his upper back. It was swaying lightly with his movements as the sword flashed in the sunlight, cutting down sharkticons.

Thinking back, he couldn't remember Megatron firing _either_ of his three cannons after the first few days after they'd met up again. 

Of course, they'd split first, right after they'd arrived here and that was a few _years_ past, now. They'd never actually gone _too_ far from each other, always keeping vaguely in range somehow, without even discussing it. But after several unsuccessful run-ins with both these creatures, _sharkticons_ and then what had seemed to be the actual inhabitants before they'd ended up joining forces again.

It had still taken a few years of wandering before he'd tentatively pinged Megatron (and wandering around hoping to get in range) asking, reluctantly, oh-so-very-reluctantly, if _he'd_ had any luck. Luck with talking, fighting, with the natives. Luck with finding something to get off the planet. _Anything_.

He hadn't, of course, and when they finally agreed to meet up again, since it'd be _more effective_ (Megatron's words, Optimus would've just used 'safer') if they were together than not, Megatron had been using his sword.

He'd wondered _why_ , but hardly been about to _question it_ when the sword and shield came out every time they stumbled over or were found by the various creatures that could be found in this planet's wastelands as they looked for energon in _some_ form, and tried to devise a way to get off the planet.

Energon, in turn, which was _scarce_. Most of it could also only be found in scattered crystal deposits, which meant they had to be careful about exposure and handle only a small amount directly. Consuming it was no easier affair, having to use their ambient absorption circuits instead of either root mode or altmode intakes since they had no way to process the crystals into the nominally more safer liquid form.

... Optimus _had_ been using some amount of their found energon to make sure his rifle was charged which was... admittedly, foolish, now that he'd thought about it. It seemed obvious _now_ , but he hadn't considered it at all until it was pointed out to him.

"... All right." Shaking his helm, Optimus put the rifle away and pretended not to notice the not-so-quiet 'finally' that was ground out behind him as he turned around and picked up the crude containers they'd managed to fashion. Carrying raw crystal energon, even small amounts, in subspace was just _asking_ for trouble, so while the hewn out rock tubs wouldn't really protect from the radiation, it still meant they could carry more than just using their hands.

Hopefully they'd find a way off the planet soon.

Soon wasn't _today_ , however, or even probably in the near future - for now it was enough to be able to leave the valley and its huge rock formations which protected the small outgrowths of energon crystal. At least the excursion had been successful, and the injuries they'd gotten (mostly Megatron) were not drastic. Self repair would, with only minimal assistance, be able to take care of them.

Well, except Megatron's knee, Optimus amended mentally with a frown. That would take longer and wouldn't really heal right without proper supplies and medical attention, which would normally not be something Optimus _worried over_ , but given the situation...

"You need another weapon," Megatron said, and Optimus turned around to stare at the mech standing in the opening of the cave they were currently hiding in.

"Another..." shaking his helm, Optimus snorted, "I doubt we'll be able to find _spare guns_ any easier than we've been able to find a _ship_ , Megatron." There was a reason they were still stuck here, after all, and it had only so much to do with said possible ships being too well-guarded and hard to find.

"Not _guns_ , Prime," Megatron said and tossed the scrap metal - apparently from the sharkticons, and _why_ had Megatron been carrying that all the way back here? - on the floor between them, "a melee weapon. Something that won't _waste energy clips_." The sneer and heavy insult in those words were easily heard, but Optimus ignored it. It was far more interesting, and _baffling_ , to see Megatron sit down on the ground by his pile of scrap, pulling out the struts of the creature from it, and start wrapping them around each other - or tying them together, where wrapping would've broken something.

He had _no idea_ what Megatron was doing.

"I don't think a sword would work, you know." He wasn't stupid - he'd seen Megatron work that thing, and it was obvious it required some pretty good amount of skill and knowledge to use to the best effect. At his comment, Megatron glanced up from under the edge of his helm, optics nearly glittering in the twilight of the cave.

"We're not getting you a _sword_ , Prime. I'm pretty sure even _you_ will be able to handle a _club_."

"A _club_?" He'd have protested more, really, but if Megatron wanted to waste time doing that... who was he to stop him?

***

Standing with said club in his hand a few days later, however, Optimus rather wished he had at least _tried_ to stop him. 

It had a comfortable weight in his hand, heavy enough he could _feel it_ , but not nearly enough to be the least bit difficult to swing. It felt almost creepily well-balanced; did Megatron know his specs so well, without him having said anything about it? And there was no question that it was, as much as the situation and materials allowed, _well-made_.

He also didn't have a clue what to do.

Oh, in _theory_ , it wasn't difficult. A club didn't need more than to literally be swung at its target, it wasn't meant for any greater _manoeuvres_ , but...

"Well? Give it a few swings, Prime," Megatron crossed his arms and looked him over, and Optimus frowned and shook his helm... But did as asked. Not that that _helped_ any, because it felt just as odd as it had when Megatron had fairly shoved it at him. This felt just as odd as the first time he'd _deliberately_ took up his rifle, and even his rifle, even if he was _used to it_ by now, and was a fairly good marksman, still felt... wrong.

Even defending himself back when Megatron had been trying to take the Matrix after he just got it had come slowly, not to talk about _attacking_. It simply...

"I'm not sure what the _aim_ is here, Megatron." Looking up from staring at the ground and the shadow of the club swinging over it, Optimus met those red, narrow optics and resisted the urge to roll his own in the face of that glare.

"Useless, jumped-up records' clerk..." muttering, Megatron shook his helm and drew his sword. Automatically, Optimus took a step back, raising the club and reaching for... right, his rifle, which Megatron had insisted he leave several steps behind him, by the cave.

"Megatron?" Warily, he tightened his grip around the club, and didn't like the bared teeth aimed at him, which only _very generously_ could be called even a grin.

"Perhaps beating the knowledge into you will help. Tell me, how did you learn to fight beyond whatever those _Prime-upgrades_ gave you?" Megatron was now advancing on him, sword out and low to the ground, but at an angle so that he was being cut off from darting for his rifle. All he had was the weapon in his hand.

"... Training, of course. Quite a lot of hours. _How else_ \---uff!" Barely lifting the club in time to shield from the sword being swung at him, Optimus was driven back by the sheer _force_ of it. Familiar by now, but Megatron hadn't ever actually used his _sword_ on him. It was always his cannon(s), or hand-to-hand.

"It's a _wonder_ your rag-tag army of _merchants and civilians_ have lasted as long as they _have_ , Prime. Not to talk about _you_ ," Megatron snorted and swung again, but this time Optimus was ready and could block _before_ it almost cut into him, "at least you have the _will_ to fight, compared to some others I could name."

"If you'd actually _let us leave_ , we wouldn't have had to end up here, and you wouldn't need to waste any energy on fighting _merchants and civilians_ you know," Optimus said, frowning and _tried_ a swing - he misjudged, not so much the strength needed as the distance between them and the length of the weapon itself. He went stumbling past Megatron, who, _surprisingly_ , didn't bury the sword in his back.

Instead Megatron just slammed the pommel into the back of his helm, 'helping' him stagger forward another half step before he could whirl around on instinct to block another swing. The hit reverberated through the club and up his arm, making the small workings in his hand _ache_ from it.

"What would be the point of _that_?" Megatron said with a snort and a shake of his helm, but he didn't continue further and Optimus wasn't sure _why_ , but he'd almost expected him to say something _different_. Something _more_. 

Megatron didn't, however, just _stabbed_ at him, forcing him to step aside and he swung the club out, trying to aim for his opponent's helm - barely missing Megatron, but only because he ducked backwards to avoid it, optics flashing.

"That's _better_." Megatron's smirk set something sparking within him, and Optimus huffed, tried another swing and nearly had the club slammed out of his hand as the sword descended on it.

" _How_ is it _better_? How is _any_ of what's surely going on on Cybertron right now, and has been for the past million years, _better_ than what was _before_? You---" He'd been advancing, swinging wildly, and the second Megatron drove into him Optimus knew Megatron could've easily rid him of his weapon the second he'd started swinging as he had.

Megatron had waited until he apparently couldn't any longer however, expression thunderous as he sent them sprawling.

Not that Optimus would wait for the hits to start coming down, or for the cannons Megatron _still had attached_ to be turned on him and power up.

"It's _better_ \---"

Optimus punched the mech above him, and they rolled. Megatron's sun-warmed metal ground down on, against, him and then _he_ was on top, but Megatron entwined their legs and jerked, twisting them around.

"Because now there's a _goal_ to work towards, some _definition_ \---hnng!" His elbow into the side of Megatron's helm briefly shut him up, and he managed to untangle himself and throw himself sideways, rolling to his feet and immediately having to lift up the club to ward off a protoform-rattling swing from the sword.

He wasn't sure how he'd held onto the club in their tussle on the ground, but at least he _had_.

"Something _more_ than the aimless, _worthless_ existence we had before!"

Again, there was a vague feeling that Megatron would once have said _more_ than that, but Optimus was too busy to linger on that thought, merely threw himself forward, swinging the club into Megatron's right shoulder and the tank-tread housing there - the sword bit into his side for his trouble and they parted, dancing around each other.

"Some of us were _perfectly satisfied_ with it! How is _millions of lives_ lost to this war worth _anything_? You could've had Cybertron, Megatron, but you wouldn't let us _leave_!" The bellow boiled up from within, and Optimus was startled enough he didn't step out of the way of Megatron driving into him again - but this time they didn't go crashing to the ground, but rather he was slammed into the side of the rock their cave was in.

It shuddered as several tens of tons of metal crashed into it, dust rising up before it fell down along with smaller rocks, pinging off their metal and scattering on the ground.

Megatron was now bare moments from his face, optics almost painfully bright even in the light of the sun above.

"And those who wouldn't have wanted to leave, _Prime_? I'm rather sure at least _some_ of them would rather have fought for their home than listen to the reason of _statistical safety_ ," Megatron said, growling the words out before he smiled, slowly and with far too much teeth showing, "a home they weren't even aware they might _need to fight for_ , before they had to do it."

Optimus could tell that that was supposed to _mean_ something, that it _undoubtedly_ meant something to Megatron - to the Decepticons too, perhaps. To him, it was _nonsensical_. Sure, he'd rescinded the order to evacuate, but not for _Cybertron's_ sake. 

It had rather been for the far greater possible influence Megatron and the Decepticons might have on the _rest of the galaxy_ when they left Cybertron for wider battlefields. He'd rather have had his own people safe, but if he had to contain the Decepticons...

"A home we didn't _need_ to fight for, before you decided we _had to_ ," Optimus snapped, tensing and jerking his left arm, captured as it was against the rock, but didn't get anywhere. Instead Megatron simply ground his hand further into the rock, sensor nodes pinging back threats to the integrity of the metal in his fingers where Megatron was squeezing their interlaced fingers.

His punch was caught by the wrist, and trying to buck Megatron off didn't get him anywhere - he didn't have enough leverage, and Megatron was heavier than he was. Which _could_ have worked to his advantage, but with a lack of that _leverage_...

"And look at _you_ now, Optimus Prime," Megatron said slowly, optics flickering down along his frame, where Megatron's silver-edged ivory metal was nearly grinding into his own red, blue and white, "no longer just an _archivist_ , doing _what_? Sorting old, out-dated data or sorting through war-time correspondence for others, but rath---"

Engine roaring, Optimus _headbutted_ Megatron, sending his helm cracking back with a snap and a low groan as a reward, then hooked a foot around his leg and managed to flip them around, slamming their joined hands into the rock. His other fist was still Megatron's to control, however, even if he tried to yank it out of the vice-like grip.

" _Perhaps_ , Megatron, I _liked_ archiving said data, and _history_ is _never_ useless."

Data was simple. 

_Archiving_ was simple. 

It was straightforward and easy to deal with. The issues came from archiving new data, finding the _old_ data, figuring out if it was archived correctly, where to move it if it was not... _Data_ didn't have opinions, didn't have feelings to be hurt or navigated around and taken into account (things he forgot half the time to do _anyway_ ). 

Data wasn't _confusing_.

Megatron was laughing, and Optimus stared, frustrated, confused, angry and aching if not all over, then certainly nearly so.

"That, at least, is something we can agree on, even if none of us actually seem to either remember _or_ know most of our own past," Megatron said with a grin, optics lit with amused fire, and Optimus reset his vocaliser. Megatron didn't seem particularly _angry_ about their argument any longer, _or_ at their positions having been switched. 

And despite that he was keeping a shade more distance between them than Megatron had when he'd pushed him into the rock, the mech seemed _far too close_.

A feeling that didn't fade when Megatron leaned forward. Pushing him back got Optimus nothing but a faintly narrowed look of amusement.

" _Archiving_ , little records' clerk, won't help you in the _real world_ , if someone decides to come into your archives with weapons drawn," Megatron's optics were hooded now, even as he was still _smiling_. And they were now as close as when Megatron had been pushing against him earlier, but letting go would mean letting Megatron have the leverage back - not that he probably couldn't reverse their positions again.

"And I think you look far _better_ like this, even if the Matrix still was _wasted_ on you. You learn too _slowly_ , Prime."

Optics darking in a scowl, Optimus slammed their joined hands into the rock once more and pressed forward. He could have headbutted Megatron again, but... he didn't. He had to reach up a little to actually be able to force Megatron back properly, and Megatron, while he was still radiating _amusement_ , went with the movement despite not actually _having to_.

He tried not to think of how close Megatron's mouth was.

"I learn fast enough to keep up with _you_." 

But he wasn't sure if that was _really_ true. He'd gone digging after the matches Megatron had been in after his first confrontation with the mech, and while he hadn't found them _all_ , he'd still found a respectable cross-cut of Megatron's gladiator career. 

It'd been... intimidating to say the least. Optimus had been (was still) _keenly aware_ of how much the Matrix was giving him so he could keep up, especially taking into account the rumoured _upgrades_ Megatron had supposedly subjected himself to - and to a lesser degree, the rest of his Decepticons.

He'd seen those fights, marvelled at the skill, the _leashed lethality_ in every movement that left Megatron's opponents very often partly scattered on the arena floor, though not _deactivated_. Not, he was pretty sure, for lack of _skill_ or even lack of intent on Megatron's part, but rather because killing games weren't legal.

" _Barely_ ," Megatron allowed with a tilt of his helm, grinding his thumb into Optimus' wrist, cutting into the servos and numbing the cables. His fingers twitched and then the sensation in his hand was mostly pings about loss of motor control and a vague _lack_ as the servos no longer could figure out where his fingers were in relation to each other.

Growling, Optimus dug his weight in, pushing his crest against the front of Megatron's helm, determined to not have their positions flipped around _again_ \---

And was _completely_ taken aback by the soft static slide of lips against his mask. But despite that Megatron could _definitely_ have flipped them around again with how slack he went, all Megatron did was dig his thumb further into the wrist gap in his armour, making Optimus jump with the sudden spike of _pain_.

"Megatron---" His hand clattered uselessly against his side as Megatron dropped his hand, fingers still twitching while Megatron used his free hand to curl it around the back of his helm. That deadly thumb was now resting along the base of his audial. It made him twitch it away, and he narrowed his optics at the knowing smirk on Megatron's faceplate.

" _What_ \--?"

"Oh, shut it, Prime. Don't play _coy_ with me, and I'll do you the favour of telling you that no, I haven't thought about it prior, but given the situation it seems like a pretty _pleasant_ opportunity, and since you _do_ learn pretty well on the battlefield, want to _switch focus _..?" trailing off, Megatron cocked his helm an arched an almost-hidden upper optic ridge at him.__

__He couldn't quite stop the brightening of his optics, or the tightening curl of anxiety around his spark chamber, but at the same time... _Megatron_ might not have thought about it, but he had. Fleetingly only, in brief, confused little bursts of curiosity._ _

__Regardless of the _offer_ , though, he knew it wouldn't exactly be _safe_. _ _

__This _was_ Megatron, after all. But. Well. He'd wondered, and the situation _was_ pretty extraordinary... His thoughts were interrupted by a grunt and Megatron rolling his optics, all the warning he had before he was pulled closer and up - _of course_ Megatron would decline to bend down the slight distance that separated them - and this time, surprised or not, he was still _ready_._ _

__This time, the catch and slide of soft protoform against his mask was _recognised_ if not expected or yet familiar, and the bare stirrings of static tingled. He wasn't sure if Megatron expected the mask to retract or something, but if so... he had to disappoint him. Though maybe he wouldn't - at the next, seeking, _demanding_ press of lips, Optimus set the mask vibrating, the static caught between them and thrumming along the vibration._ _

__"Hm." Megatron's murmur snaked along in counterpoint to the vibration, disrupting it and adding its own tingle, but the noise he could more _feel_ than hear as he hummed right back was definitely not _disappointment_ , as far as he could tell. But he didn't have to _guess_ , because the hand at the back of his helm went tight, finding the grooves in the armour to rub along._ _

__The pressure seeped heat and and a charged weight that settled around his processor, and while he still refused to try and untangle the hands he and Megatron still had laced together and was still pushing into the rock, since he had regained motor control in his _other_ hand he settled that at Megatron's side._ _

__Not that it _stayed there_ , idling by the faulds - that would be a waste, even if he was... uncertain, what to do next. _ _

__But being able to _touch_ Megatron without necessarily aiming to _harm_ was a heady prospect, so after a few hesitant moments where he simply outlined the angles of the faulds, Optimus soon let his hand wander._ _

__Along the edges, not quite dipping into the gaps between pelvic armour and torso, and for the moment definitely avoiding the gaps between _thighs_ and pelvic armour. But he scraped his fingers along the slats in Megatron's abdominal plating, followed the armour up to the heat of the lights set in his chestplating. _ _

__He'd wanted to touch them _first_ , beckoning as they were, but it'd seemed too... direct._ _

__"Don't be _shy_ , Prime. I don't have patience for _mincing_ ," Megatron growled, _right against_ an audial finial. It sent a tremble through him, caught between leaving the finial where it was and to flick it away. The blasted slagger then _chuckled_ , leaning in to slide his lips down the finial._ _

__He briefly lost full motor control of his legs, more clutching _at_ the mech than caressing him and using their joined hands as anchors before he could lock his knees in place. He knew they could be sensitive, but not... _quite_ like that. But then, when he and Magnus had fooled around when they were younger, it'd mostly been to set the other shrieking with ticklish laughter._ _

__Nothing like _this_._ _

__Shaking his helm but _not_ yanking the finial away from Megatron, he rubbed the heel of his hand down into the largest chestlight, pressing down against what must be the hidden connection underneath it to allow it to glow._ _

__Megatron rumbled against him, deep enough it set not just Megatron's armour, but Optimus' armour as well, and _also_ his protoform rattling. Humming, angling his helm to rub his mask along Megatron's jawline, Optimus set his engine rumbling right back._ _

__Harmonic built between them, a vibration that warmed protoform and settled charge around hip joints and in the pelvis, bright and hot. Optimus pushed into Megatron, briefly unheeding of the hand he'd just trapped between them and squashing workings already abused. The pressure and hum between them was more important, the charge blue-tinged and curling along circuits, up through his frame and settling around his spark chamber._ _

__He groaned, right against the cabling in Megatron's throat, mask fairly _thrumming_ with the noise and he shouldn't be so very pleased, he really shouldn't, but the feeling of Megatron flagging, just ever so slightly, against him sent a spike of an altogether different pleasure through him._ _

__So he did it again, _deliberately_ this time, a long, deep humming note, and Megatron actually tilted his chin up, _baring_ more of his throat as another nearly sub-sonic moan rattled through the powerful frame and against Optimus' armour._ _

__There was a knee pushing up between his legs, adding _pressure_ to the charged heat there and he reluctantly lifted his helm away from its pleasant place when Megatron scraped a finger down his other finial. Well, more like _reluctantly jerked away_ , the noise caught between being startled and a moan._ _

__"Let's not waste the charge, Prime. Open up."_ _

__Quirking an upper optic ridge, Optimus tapped his fingers against the left fauld and then let them trail along angles and gaps until he could settle his hand against Megatron's thigh and fit his thumb in the gap between thigh and pelvis, in the shadows between his legs._ _

__"I don't think this is _wasting_ anything, and you'll have to forgive me if I'm... _overly cautious_ ," Optimus muttered as he slowly increased the pressure of his thumb while rubbing against the joint, static snapping around the digit and not even the live lightning snap of Megatron twisting the tip of a finial could distract him._ _

__It did have him twist his hand though, and the twinned groan rattled them _both_._ _

__"If I was going kill you, Prime, I could already have done it and I'd _definitely_ do it _far more directly_ than through a virus I'd have to be suffering from myself, and I am _pretty sure_ I am _clean_ ," the low, rolling thunder of Megatron's voice carried the threat of Megatron flipping them around again, and Optimus narrowed his optics and _squeezed_ the joint at the same time as he leaned forward and rumbled against Megatron's jaw again, mask vibrating._ _

__The large, heavy mech pressed against the rock in front of him, grit his teeth and his metal against Optimus' almost _trembled_. Optimus had to admit to some faint disappointment of not having been able to ride that flash of arousal and charge _with him_. It was probably _foolish_ , but..._ _

__"... All right. But no further than this." Not that that kept him from glancing down towards the brightly, nearly _fiercely_ burning lights on Megatron's torso, and what would be hidden beneath as he let go of the thigh to trail fingertips over the metal of Megatron's crotch. _ _

__But since _he_ wasn't going to bare _anything_ of something to important as his spark chamber to Megatron, asking _Megatron_ in turn to bare such a thing for _him_..._ _

__No._ _

__"Ah, such a _disappointment_ , Prime. But then I'm---" The glitch in his vocaliser was carried on his voice catching soundlessly, optics flashing and his mouth going soft around the smirk he'd been aiming at Optimus as the connection slid home both ways, cabling hot and glowing with the charge that barely asked for a system handshake before it flooded through. _ _

__That expression was one of the ones Optimus would remember in ages to come._ _

__"You're _what_ \--ah!"_ _

__Megatron had used the grip he still had about Optimus' helm to pull him close and unceremoniously wrapped his lips around the finial, teeth _just_ catching as it slid down the sensitive audio receptor. Optimus hardly had enough of _anything_ to spare to _focus_ the charge before it washed through him and _beyond_ , searing through the connection and echoing back, like a wave being drawn back to the ocean._ _

__"Used to _disappointment_. You Primes are _exceptionally_ good at it," Megatron said, and Optimus would've thought he was unaffected by the flare of charge pulsing between them if it wasn't for the pressure of the hand about his helm and the sub-sonic tremble that lay beneath his voice._ _

__For a moment, all he was aware of was the noise of his cooling fans, the peculiar pressure of wiring and circuits flush with charge as his finial was a bright white point in his sensor net; static, and warm, sliding pressure mapping it out from top to bottom and he couldn't do more than remain standing, pushing against Megatron._ _

__His hand twitched where it'd landed on Megatron's thigh again, and it was something to focus on. He snorted, ignored the static threading through it and turned his helm just enough to be able to rest his mask against Megatron's throat. The mech hadn't _quite_ stilled against him, but there were teeth prickling as much _warningly_ as _rewarding_ against his finial._ _

__It wouldn't stop him._ _

__"Well..." he huffed, from vocaliser and vents both, sending warm waste air up around them, " _someone_ has to be, don't they? You can't... _always_ get what you... _want_ ," he spoke slowly, carefully enunciating each word, noticing that he wasn't getting _less_ space by Megatron's throat, rather _more_ of it, to nuzzle against it as he hummed. The thin metal so very open to the thrumming vibrations coming through his mask, from his vocaliser._ _

__The teeth hovering suddenly clamped down, and bright-white charge and pain speared through him at the same time, but Optimus didn't _care_. _ _

__Not when Megatron was now curled slightly _around him_ , their shared charge not pushed away before it'd completed its circuit - rather it crashed through them both freely, rising along the sound of their engines. And when Megatron _finally_ let go of the vice-like grip he had on his helm only to _pinch his other finial_ , Optimus groaned, engine revving and he managed to angle his fingers around Megatron's hip joint to reach some cabling and _pinch right back_._ _

__Megatron twisted against him, but he didn't need the flare of Megatron's overload to bring him there - his own echoed with Megatron's, crashing against it and increasing it, excess charge spitting out where it could while the wiring around his spark chamber felt like a hot ball of metal had been poured around it._ _

__Optimus wasn't sure how many waves of it they rode, but in the end his joints ached with it, and it took a moment to realise he was staring into the darkness of his offlined optics._ _

__"Next time, perhaps we should make use of that look I saw---"_ _

__"No, Megatron," Optimus huffed and slowly shook his helm, not yet raising it from where it lay buried against Megatron's throat, and since he wasn't yet being _shoved off_... But either way he wasn't _quite_ foolish enough to think it was a good idea they bare their spark chambers for each other._ _

__Not that he thought Megatron would do that, and _he_ would _not_._ _

__"Hmm." There might have been a gentle slide of a hand over his helm, but Optimus chose not to comment on it. He'd rather not be punched to the ground, because in this state he might just spill _most ungracefully_._ _

__"Get up then, we have a lesson to finish."_ _

__It took a moment for the words to register, and then he reluctantly lifted his helm to stare at Megatron._ _

__"You can't be _serious_."_ _

__He was pretty sure Megatron _was_ , however._ _

__"If you think it looks or sounds as if I'm joking, you are perfectly welcome to chance to remain where you are, Prime, and maybe I'll see if you like _pain_ as much as you like _pleasure_ , Megatron said slowly, and it wasn't the narrow glow in his optics that made Optimus move, but rather the knife-sharp grin on Megatron's faceplate._ _

__"If you didn't want me to stay there, you could just have--- _Megatron_!" growling as he staggered away from almost having been clobbered by Megatron's shield, Optimus stared for one moment longer before he turned for the club he could see at the corner of his vision. He could see Megatron go to pick up his dropped sword, but this time he kept his shield out as well._ _

__"This time, _try_ to actually do some _damage_ , Prime. The worst of it is still from those overgrown scraplets, and that doesn't say much for _you_."_ _

__Optimus would be offended if, one, he still didn't feel like that as little fighting, as little _death and injuries_ done was a victory in itself, and two, if he still wasn't riding on post-overload lassitude and lingering charge._ _

__Megatron's smirk would have to go, however, so he hefted the club with a sigh and charged._ _


End file.
